If I Were Well Behaved, I'd Die

I'm As Pure As The Driven Slush.

Wracked With A Hangover I Do My Muttering Over A Black Velvet, A Union Of Champagne And Stout. Don't Be Swindled Into Believing There's Any Cure For A Hangover. I've Tried Them All: Iced Tomatoes, Hot Clam Juice, Brandy Peaches. Like The Common Cold It Defies Solution. Time Alone Can Stay It. The Hair Of The Dog? That Way Lies Folly. It's As Logical As Trying To Put Out A Fire With Applications Of Kerosene.

I'd Rather Be Strongly Wrong Than Weakly Right.

I Have Three Phobias Which, Could I Mute Them, Would Make My Life As Slick As A Sonnet, But As Dull As Ditch Water: I Hate To Go To Bed, I Hate To Get Up, And I Hate To Be Alone.

[on Being Asked In Her Later Years If She Were Tallulah:] I'm What's Left Of Her, Dahling.